


Of Fangs, Hearths, and Cinnamon

by Natsumi105



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, F/M, I'm not gonna write out all the charachters cuz ahh, M/M, Original Character(s), POV Original Female Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-18 10:32:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16993371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Natsumi105/pseuds/Natsumi105
Summary: Noitia has lived solely in isolation. Every being has been a threat since the separation, and trust is scarce and unwanted in her mindset. She has had one goal in mind since the beginning, and no amount of kindness or grace will sway her from it. She never intended to find it in such copious amounts.





	1. Unwelcome Hearth

The streets were dark and cold. The air bit my pale skin as I walked in angst, the night clouding my vision. The shrieking of birds threatened to deafen me, as they danced in circles through the bitter night, cascading leaves that twirled and caught midnight strands on my head, the twigs grasping and tying themselves in the knots. My feet were bare, and cold, and my hands torn and rough. My lungs were clawing for breath, obtained in heavy, rasping sounds that tore from my throat and fogged in the night. I looked up, eyes peering through blackened strands at the shimmering glow of a home ahead of the fields. The grasses were tickling my skin as I reached for it, the warmth my body hungered. I grasped at the small wooden door, nails shredding the rough edges as I dragged it down, finding darkness at the bottom.

\----------------------------------------

“Oy, calm down Molly, she’s breathing.”

“A child almost died on my doorstep Arthur!”

“She’s not yours.”

“ARTHUR WEASLEY!”

“Mum, I think she’s waking up...”

“Ginny, go hurry and get some water for her, dear.”

\-----------------------------------------

My body was groaning in pain. My limbs clung to the mattress. I fought with consciousness as the noises around me grew louder. There was a warm hand on my face. It was surrounded by an aura of spices and herbs, a cook, needed, and wanted by others. Plump fingers, her stomach has lived with an absence of vacancy. They were rough, and firm, the fruit of her labor demonstrated by each indent, as they scraped across my forehead, brushing strands from my face in a gentle, loving, unmistakable way. A mother. The touch was foreign, my skin lacked its practice. It was a snake, coaxing, and I feared its embrace.

My eyes flew open, and my body surged upwards. My vision was greeted by the woman with the spiced hands. Her face was firm and unwavering, a sad smile etched, as her dark eyes softened upon my expression. Her hair curled around her face, wild and bold, a light cinnabar, a wilderness of loose strands circling her round features. Behind her was a girl, younger and small, her pale skin shining, her face soft and her ginger hair cradling her face and raining down her back. Her fingers were smooth and soft, cared for, loved. A man’s arm, draped along her shoulder, a stern face. His brow marked with gaping lines that tear into his mind. His hair the same shade as the women, chaotic atop his head, a touch of gray curling into his fading locks. Between himself and the woman, the girl had never known hardship.

Their eyes were fixated on my alien form and mine on theirs. The scene overbearing, her loving gaze, his shielding arm, concern rang like a coin drops, the sound piercing my ears. My mind stretched and wandered, knuckles clasped, eyes frantic. I hadn’t noticed the rapid rhythm of my breath until her face had morphed to one of dismay.

“Are you alright, dear?”

_No, let me leave._

But she wouldn’t. The wooden door positioned to the back of the house beckoned to me, and I regained my thoughts only when my feet had glided toward it, and the spiced hands had grasped my arm.

“At least let me feed you, love.”

My strength collapsed, and I fell into the labored, spiced hands, giving up for the need of strength, from exhaustion. My chest ached at the feeling of warmth surrounding, a mother’s hold and a blanket draped on my shoulders. Her strong form was clouded by drops that formed and rained down my stained skin.

\-----------------------

I was eating.

The statement alone felt odd on my tongue, along with the rich flavor of butternut that my throat was struggling to swallow, for the sensation, though pleasant, was still unwelcome. Her dark eyes watched me as I ate, giving a small nod for each portion I managed to consume. The girl had gone to bed, as had the man, so it was the spiced woman and me, two worlds in the same room. Her name was Molly, as the man referred to her, it suited her.

“What’s your name, love?”

I swallowed harshly. The moment I had entered her home, I was engulfed into her world, where people bothered to ask what to call you.

“Noitia.” _(Noy-she-uh)_

“Noitia dear, It would allow me to sleep at night if you could spend the night. I’ll take care of your room, follow me.” It wasn’t a question, I noticed, she seemed to be daring me to disobey. She watched me for a moment, her hard, dark eyes eyed my shaking hands, shining from the care they had been graced with within the past hour.

I followed her up a narrow staircase, barely fitting in the confined space that was their home before she turned in an unseen opening, pulling me close behind. It was a small room, the roof angled across it so that you could only really stand up straight at the right side of the room. A window was positioned on the roof, looking up at the night sky, and shining down on a small double bed. A pungent spiced aura was about it, truly her home.

She left me there, in the spiced room, laying on spiced sheets and staring at a clouded sky. Sleep would take me soon, and I let it.

\----------------------------------


	2. Strangers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey hey hey...it's the second chapter....enjoy :)

What had once been a quiet home, a nature of calm was diminished by the sunrise. The children who dwelt here had become aware of the stranger in the guest room, and despite their mother’s pleas and her spiced commands, they crowded at the small door, ears glued to the wood, curiosity reaching to my retreating figure, as I watched the light through the cracks fade with the presence of strangers. I got up, gliding slowly to the door, hearing the scurrying of children fleeing from the scene as my hand turned the knob that separated myself from the chaos.

The light was blinding, and my bare feet slithered down the wooden steps with caution, as the voices in the kitchen grew louder. By the time I reached the bottom, I was greeted by a sea of autumn hair.

Two identical boys grabbed my attention first, their joy lit eyes and impish smiles fixated on adding salt to a distracted brother’s cup. The victim, in what appeared to be a heated conversation with the father from earlier, Arthur, held himself like royalty. His nose was raised high, and he seemed to take pleasure in the thought of being a driver, though he wasn’t in the seat. Another stranger was seated across from the twins and the snob, alongside the smaller girl from earlier. He was significantly shorter in confidence, and his eyes were directed only to the boy next to him as they made quiet conversation, eyes glancing every so often at the door of which they thought their stranger to reside. The boy in question was the odd one. His hair lacked the crimson resemblance of the others at the table. Instead, it was a jet black, his green eyes shining through glasses, scanning the room in search of answers to absent questions. The last stranger sat next to the two friends, her hair color also lacking in red, and replaced with a mouse brown, curls encircling the frame of her face and her eyes glued to a book hidden under the table.

The ruckus seemed to die down as my presence became known, and Molly, sitting at the end of the table opposite her lover, rose with a smile. The strangers turned to look at me, pausing in their different worlds to acknowledge the unknown presence in the room, their eyes hunting over a caged animal whose bare feet were rooted to the steps before them, ears twitching and eyes scanning for escape among the pack. Auras of hungry curiosity told me there was none. The spiced woman approached and placed her labored hand on my shoulder.

“Everyone! Say hello To Noitia!”

“Hi!” They chorused.

The woman smiled and guided me to an empty seat next to the twins, who grinned in sync and winked at me. The one closest to me leaned over as soon as I grounded myself on the chair.

“Hey, I’m Fred, and the wanker sitting next to me is George. Said your name’s Noitia?”I nodded, aware of the curious glances of the trio of brown, red, and black across from me. Unfortunately, they did not stop there.

“Why so quiet, love? We don’t bite.”

“Well, Percy over there might, but that’s just because he’s a stuck-up bastard,” the other twin, George, nodded towards the royally-held ginger next to him. I couldn’t help but smirk at the retort, only adding fuel to the flame.

“Don’t worry though, you’re safe with us. We have a knack for repelling stupidity when it comes our way.” I smiled shyly at them, their eyes wild with excitement. We were soon interrupted by the man at the head of the table.

“Well, Noitia! Where is it you’re from?” He asked excitedly, with enough enthusiasm to provide for where I lacked such.

“South of here,” I whispered, my sudden burst of comfort from the twins evaporating under the gaze of unwanted attention.

“Well, where south? Anywhere I’d know?”

“A small town off of Sidmouth, you probably wouldn’t know it.”

“What brought you here?” He asked, oblivious.

“Family issues,” I muttered. He seemed to nod in understanding before his wife spoke up.

“Well dear, would you mind telling us where you’re going? Maybe we can help you on your way. Not that it hasn’t been a pleasure to have you here, you just seemed to have a destination in mind last night.” She smiled while I faltered, unsure of how to tell her of my current situation, without actually informing her of such.

“Well..you see... I kind of figured I’d travel north,” I said hesitantly, hand twitching under the table as the boy with green eyes and his brunette companion narrowed their eyes. Molly spoke softly.

“Dear, do you have somewhere to go?” A silence, before I shook my head no. She nodded, in understanding, before an idea seemed to come to her. 

“Oh! Arthur! She can go with you to the cup!”

“Molly, you’ve forgotten about tickets.”

“I’m sure we can pull a few strings with the ministry. Percy’s going to be with Mr. Crouch anyhow, why don’t we use his ticket? Say it’s an emergency”

I couldn’t take it anymore. They were loud and I was tired, and the kindness was suffocating, I needed out. “Please,” I started, cautious with my own kindness, “I only want to travel north, I wouldn’t wish to impose.” The shake of her head silenced me, an aura of spice and sheer command dared me  _ not  _ to impose. This woman was evil, and I was weak.

“Oh dear, it’s no trouble really.” She said, a spiced smile with teeth. 

_ Get me out, please just get me out _ . 

“I appreciate your efforts, but I’d prefer to find my own way” my hands were tensing on the side of the chair, the wood scraping underneath me.  _ Control. They’re not to be trusted. Fangs down love, too inviting. _

“Oh please, what kind of mother would I be if I just chucked you out?” Molly sighed.

_ A good one, trust me. _

“I’ll be fine on my own.” I tried a look of sincerity, but her insistence was beginning to stress me out, my feet were tapping, eyes nervously shaking between red, black, and mouse brown. Too many spices.  _ Get me out. _

“Darling if you’d just let me..”

“PLEASE!” I had lost it.  _ Fangs up. Threat. Too easy, keep them. Don’t. What? Calm. No. Kill. Too many questions. Leave me alone. Please. Stop. I- _

My thoughts were stilled with a warm hand. He had placed it on my fingers, palm shaking, and nervous, but the empathy remained, as did the palm. It was small, but a burning city was never so warm. I relaxed against my will, his freckled hand now confident, the sweat leaving. He grasped my fingers tightly, the spice almost soothing, a cinnamon to contrast cayenne. The room had gone quiet now, too quiet. I ripped my hand from the warmth and stood up, taking off the jumper I had been given, and placing it on the table. The twin with heated hands looked up at me curiously, and I made a point to take note of his smaller nose, slightly shrunken height, rounder eyes, and a sheepish grin.

It was then that I turned to the woman of spice. “Thank you for your hospitality, but I’m afraid I must take my leave,” and with the spiced and curious eyes staring at my back, I left.


End file.
